


How To Train Your Constables

by whosrickygoldsworth



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosrickygoldsworth/pseuds/whosrickygoldsworth
Summary: Jack is one of Melbourne's best. And as a result, Russell Street sends him an assortment of constables with their own flaws. Jack tries his best.





	How To Train Your Constables

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place partway through s1e4 Death at Victoria Dock. Mostly Jack & Hugh-centric, although there is mention of Phryne.

Hugh Collins respected Jack Robinson. He thought the detective was brilliant, and he felt honored that he got to be trained by one of the best officers in the state. But Hugh really felt that in this instance, Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was wrong. He hoped this wasn't a

Gathering up his courage, he knocked on the door to his superior's office. The inspector was wearing a grey suit and blue and silver tie, leaned over a stack of paperwork on his desk. Probably adding onto the notes from his study of the crime scene at the docks, or filing them away properly. “Come in,” the Inspector said gruffly. “Constable, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, I know you said not to take requests from Miss Fisher, but I think I was right to do so last night,” Collins spilled out. He fiddled with his helmet and looked for any reaction from the older man. But Inspector Robinson just leaned back in his chair and nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

“Continue.” The senior officer waved his hand.

“I agree that my job is not to follow Miss Fisher's every order, but last night, she was distressed and quite frankly, not in a fit state to drive. She barely talked on the drive except to thank me.”

“Very well, Collins. Do you have any idea what might have upset her?” Inspector Robinson asked. Hugh got the distinct impression his powers of observation were being tested, but at least Inspector Robinson didn't seem angry with him.

“She was covered in blood, sir. I haven't taken her statement yet, but I think she tried to help the victim before he died.” Hugh hypothesized, barely resisting the urge to fidget with the helmet in his hands or break eye contact with his superior.

“Has Miss Fisher mentioned any war experience to you? Some time as an ambulance driver, perhaps?” The inspector tilted his head and leaned forward in his chair.

Hugh crinkled his brow at the question. “Not that I can think of, sir. Are you suggesting trauma from the war?”

Inspector Robinson drummed his long fingers against the desk. “Old memories resurfacing, possibly. In my conversations with her, she has said things that could be allusions to the war, but I don't recall her outright mentioning serving.”

“Also, I suspect she was cold and didn't want the breeze from her car,” Hugh said, almost as an afterthought.

Inspector Robinson looked at him quizzically. “It's not too warm. Or like Miss Fisher to be under dressed for an occasion.”

“She took off her shirt because of all of the blood,” Collins said. “She still had one of her fur wraps, but she was shivering. I don't know if that was cold or shock. I didn't want to risk it.”

“Very well, Collins. I think you did the right thing last night, and I am sorry for reprimanding you this morning. And I think you did the right thing coming in here and telling me I was wrong.” Inspector Robinson said evenly and honestly.

“Sir?” Hugh asked, almost dropping his helmet in shock.

“I've trained a lot of constables, Collins. Generally, they fall into two categories. The ones who question even the most basic orders and the ones who don't question any. I appreciate that you're willing to challenge the orders you disagree with. Thank you.”

“I-I'm glad you approve, sir.” Hugh felt his face falling into the loose grin and his chest puffing up in pride, but he couldn't bring himself to restrain it.

“Bring the car around. We still need to take Miss Fisher's statement. I'll watch to make sure giving a statement doesn't bring more harsh memories to the surface,” Inspector Robinson instructed. Hugh nodded and left the detective inspector's office. As he left, Detective Inspector Robinson's mouth almost curved into a smile.

Jack devoted a small notebook to each of his constables' training, separate from the notebook with his notes on the cases in front of him. Occasionally, he would clean out his house and find old ones about officers he'd almost forgotten. For Hugh Collins, Jack had begun a tan leather notebook and kept it in his coat pocket. That night, he settled in a leather chair in his small parlor-turned-library, sipped his whiskey, and began to write in a jaunty hand.

_Challenges his officers when he disagrees with orders, but clearly has to gather up his confidence beforehand. I appreciate an officer with a strong conscience. His heart is clearly in a good place. Again, Constable Collins displays a need for more confidence. So far, it appears to be one of his biggest flaws. Perhaps something that will come with time, perhaps something that will require more of a guiding hand. He will be a good police officer someday, but he needs far more training. Surprisingly enough, I don't actually find myself dreading it._

Jack scrawled the date on the page, closed the notebook, and set it to the side. His eyes lazily scanned the bookshelf closest to him. Perhaps he could grab a book without abandoning his seat. That collection of Martial's epigrams certainly looked close enough.

 


End file.
